The Palm Sunday That Wasn't...for the Mexicans

We've always liked the Misa de Palmas, the Spanish mass on Palm Sunday at Our Lady of the Pillar Church in Half Moon Bay. Everyone gathers outside the church. Palm fronds in abundance are distributed to everyone and held out to be blessed by the presiding priest with Holy Water. Then everyone processes into the church, some waving their palms in commemoration of Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Some quickly weave their palms into ornate decorations such as crosses or other figures. Others wait until they get home. These sacred crafts...even the palm fronds themselves...are an important sacramental, displayed prominently throughout the homes for the next year. It's a Christian tradition from churches and denominations throughout the world on this day. I belive it holds a particularly special meaning for those from Latin American traditions...a reminder of how the people are close to the land...a symbol of respect and rootedness felt for a culture and religion still embraced, even though many are at least one border away from home.

Today was a sad day because the scene was much different. With only a handful of palms to distribute to the standing-room-only crowd, most went home without. There was no joyous procession into the church...only an apology from the priest who did his best to salvage the event. Had he not grabbed the few palms left over from Mass at one of the mission churches, there would have been no palms for the Spanish Mass.

Many Mexican people expressed their dismay to us following the Mass. We felt their disappointment, but were helpless to reclaim a sacred ceremony...a sacramental moment.

Was it poor planning on the part of the parish? Maybe the closing of Devil's Slide between here and Pacifica on Highway 1 had something to do with it. After all, the numerous families who have given up on this parish and now worship at either St. Peter or Good Shepherd in Pacifica can't get to the other side of the hill very easily anymore. Maybe the road's closure swelled the number of worshippers at OLP. Even if that were the case, couldn't the palms have been more evenly distributed between the various Masses? Then the Mexican people wouldn't have been relegated to the position of second-class parishioners...again.

The Ties That Bind

I heard a soft knock on the door. "Pásale!" I hollered out and glanced up from my work. Martin, the oldest teenager living with us, poked his head through the door and smiled faintly.

"I don't know how to tie this. Can you help?" he said holding a tie out to me.

"Uh oh," I thought to myself. Mike is gone to Las Vegas for the weekend at the Lenten Desert Experience and I have never tied a tie before in my entire life. I followed Martin upstairs. His parents (in photo to the right), uncle and aunt were all in the living room. Not one knew the least bit about tying a tie. Neither of the men had ever worn one. We were in a bit of a quandary and time was running short. Martin had to be at the high school in 15 minutes to catch the van from the Boys and Girls Club that would drive him, his date and friends into San Francisco for their Senior Prom.

After only a moment's hesitation, I signaled Martin to follow me. We ran next door and rang the bell of our neighbors, hoping that one of them would be home to help. Tie Tying 101 ensued and, after a couple trial and error attempts, Martin was ready, thanks to Jim, Valerie and Stevie.

Getting a tie tied probably doesn't seem like too big of a deal, but to a young boy heading off to his Senior Prom and his parents, all from an impoverished rural area of Mexico, it means the world. It is a symbol of where he and his family have been...and where they are going. In his few short years here in the U.S., Martin has earned a 3.7 GPA, has learned English, tutors math at Cunha Middle School and will graduate from high school this June. He is headed off to college this Fall with dreams of being a teacher.

Neighbors helping to tie that tie is a small example of how no one gets anywhere or achieves anything alone. We are all in this together, and Martin would be the first to agree. Like that tie, we are all bound together...past, present and future.

"Have fun!" Valerie and Stevie called after Martin as he bounded down their steps. "We are!" I grinned to myself.